


Unraveled

by BetterThanCoffee



Series: Death Clock [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Death Clock AU, F/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetterThanCoffee/pseuds/BetterThanCoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been ten years, and Aang is slowly killing himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unraveled

It had been ten years since Katara's passing. Ten years since Aang's life was effectively destroyed. It all had to do with those fucking numbers. Those goddamn numbers that only Aang could see. Every person on Earth had these numbers, and Aang had to watch as each clock ticked down, rubbing the imminent death of everyone he cared about in his face. The avatar had turned into the merchant of death. Everywhere he went, he could only see death and destruction. The smell of blood held a permanent place in the airbender's nose.

The only way Aang could begin to forget about the numbers – forget about Katara – was at the bottom of a bottle. The lines would blur together, and Aang was able to sit peacefully in a muddled abyss. No more numbers meant no more death.

Unfortunately, then would come the times that Aang would sober up. No matter how hard he tried, the airbender was not able to remain drunk forever. Waking up was the worst. Just for a few brief moments, Aang was able to forget about the numbers – forget about her. That feeling of bliss was slammed out of his chest whenever those damned numbers returned, and all the memories came rushing back.

Aang chose to no longer be the avatar. The world could take care of itself for a bit until he died. Aang was the only one who did not have a number. The tortuous aspect of living a long life was almost too much to bear. Some days, Aang fantasized about doing the deed himself and getting it over with.

The original gang was concerned for Aang's welfare. They would often drop by, en masse, to ambush the airbender. They claimed they were just checking up on him, but Aang knew what these visits really were. They were staging an intervention. It would never work, however. Aang did not wish to get better.

"Aang, please come outside. We're worried about you. We want to make sure you're okay," Sokka preached at one of group's many drop-ins.

"Fuck you, Sokka," Aang spat, rolling his shoulders agitatedly. "You want to make sure I'm okay? What a laugh! Nothing has been okay since the day Katara died!"

"Listen, Aang," Sokka continued, crouching next to the broken avatar. "Katara is my sister. I love her, too. I know Katara wouldn't want you to live like this."

Aang rose to his feet, and plowed through empty glass bottles to the door.

"Where are you going?" Toph piped up.

"You wanted me to go out, well I'm going out!" Aang huffed before marching out the door.

Even though it pained Aang to be so cruel to his former friends, the airbender had to keep them away. Seeing their lives slip away, day by day, was too painful for the avatar. He couldn't watch his friends die. Not again.

To be honest, Aang felt like a rope. This rope was expected to hold up tremendous weight. However, this rope has begun to fray. Little tendrils cutting loose, unraveling slowly as Aang sunk further into alcoholism. One day, the rope would snap. Not even Aang knew what would occur when that happened.

Every single day, as Aang sunk deeper and deeper into his own mind, more of the rope unraveled. With every drink, every nightmare, every time he awoke laying in a puddle of his own vomit, Aang destroyed himself just a bit more. For the past decade, his friends had been determined to save their lost friend. They didn't get it, though – Aang didn't want to be saved.

Aang had taken to going for midnight walks through the lower-circle of Ba Sing Se. Somehow all the poverty and sadness comforted the twenty-two year old. Despite his youthful age, faint lines already begun to take shape on his pale face. Aang had neglected to shave his head every morning. It no longer seemed worth the effort. He wasn't fit to be an airbender, let alone the avatar.

The scruff of brown hair, sprinkled with pre-mature greys, rustled in the breeze. The airbender's body automatically flowed with the wind, at home with his element. Aang no longer chose to bend, but even he couldn't deny the tranquility of a cool breeze. Following the breeze, Aang found himself in front of a pair of firebenders, huddled in an alley. Their numbers were shockingly low in comparison to their age.

After the war, a lot of firebenders remained hostile, despite Fire Lord Zuko's efforts. The firebenders who wanted peace fled their home country to take up residence in the now open Ba Sing Se. It wasn't a surprise to see firebenders in the lower circle, but huddled in an alley screamed suspicion.

Just for a moment, old instincts flared up in Aang, and he had the urge to apprehend them. Yet he couldn't. He was too tired. Just as Aang was about to leave the scene, one of the firebenders called out to him.

"Yo, kid! Whatcha doin' spying? Ain't yo' momma ever tell you it was rude."

Aang turned around and stared, the arrow on his forehead in full display.

"He didn't mean nuttin'," the second firebender stuttered. "Right, Zane?"

The first firebender, now known as Zane, observed the avatar carefully. "Whatcha doin' out here, avatar?"

"Not the avatar, anymore," Aang spoke in a raspy voice. It had been days since he had spoken.

"Tough luck, kid." Zane started rummaging behind him and pulled out a glass bowl. "Wanna hit?"

Aang stared at Zane, confused as to exactly what he was supposed to hit. Zane seemed to have understood Aang's non-verbal question. Zane took the bowl to his mouth, sealed his lips over the hole, and lit a fire beneath with a snap of his fingers.

"It'll take your mind away," Zane grinned a toothless grin.

"Are we sure we should be doing this?" The more nervous second firebender stuttered.

"Shut up, Zen. Avatar's a grown man. He can do what he wants."

Looking at Zane and his clock ticking towards zero faster than average, Aang knew he would do whatever to get out of his head.

"Why not," Aang shrugged, grabbing the bowl from Zane's hands. Taking a deep hit, the airbender nearly spluttered out a choking gasp. He kept it in, knowing that escapes only work if you let them.

Quickly, everything started melting away. There were no numbers, no nagging friends, and no Katara. It was just Aang and the firebenders. All night, Aang sat in the alley, passing around the bowl and a flask he keeps in his robes. They had no concerns in the entire world. The merchant of death had taken the night off. It was the best night Aang had had in ten years.

When Aang finally stumbled home the next morning, he could not feel the breeze. The air currents had all but disappeared on him, but so what? Aang had his new firebender friends. He had his alcohol, and now, he had his little glass bowl. Nothing could get in Aang's way. He vowed to forget Katara if it was the last thing he did.

Every night passed the same way. Aang would hang out with the firebenders, forgetting even his own name. There were no more numbers and no more Katara. Just the yearning for the fire burning his lungs. The sweet relief that came with every puff and every drink. Aang was invincible.

His friends no longer spoke to him. In a hazy memory, Aang recalled that they said they couldn't stand to "see him kill himself," but perhaps he was wrong. It wasn't like Aang was upset by it. They were just nosy busybodies who got in his way. They didn't understand that this wasn't killing him – it was the cure.

It was the cure to the nights he would wake up screaming Katara's name. It was the cure for every time Aang saw a couple, and one had numbers much lower than the other. It was the cure for when he saw a father with his daughters at the market, with only a week left. There was nothing sweeter in the entire world, and if they couldn't understand it, then fuck them.

At the back of his mind, Aang knew he didn't look the greatest. His body shrunk to the size of a skeleton. His hair was thinning, he hadn't bathed in approximately a month, and one of his teeth had fallen out. Any sane and normal person would see these as warning signs, yet Aang only saw it as an accomplishment. He was getting closer and closer to forgetting about Katara.

Everything came crashing down when Aang wobbled into his house in the wee hours of the morning. Looking up, Aang's heart clanged in his chest. It felt as if he couldn't get any oxygen. Losing muscle control, Aang fell to his knees, tears already carving paths into his cheek.

Standing before him was Katara.

She appeared exactly as she did ten years ago, only she was swathed in white cloth, giving her an ethereal presence. The look she gave Aang was one of such sadness, that Aang's heart broke all over again. Giant sobs racked Aang's body. Gasps of air struggled to make their way out of his lungs, as his entire being began to quake. Aang clenched his fists together, fingernail drawing blood from the force.

This isn't possible, Aang chanted to himself in his mind. This isn't possible. How is she here? This isn't possible.

"Aang," Katara's soft voice broke his panic.

With a tearful face, he looked up at his beloved. "How?"

Katara's face crumpled for a minute, before she found her resolve again. "When I died, it was my mother that led me to the spirits."

Suddenly, everything clicked. "So I'm dead?"

Katara gave a sad smile. "Look at yourself."

Facing the mirror, Aang saw the image of his twelve-year-old self staring back, down to his airbender robes. The airbender looked healthier than he had in ten years. His eyes were bright and shining, his head smooth as a still lake, and his body, while thin, held quite a bit of muscles.

Aang looked good; no, he looked great. No longer was everything muddled behind a screen of drugs and booze. Best of all, there were no numbers.

"Aang, we have to go," Katara spoke while reaching out her hand.

Grasping her tan hand within his own pale counterpart, Aang let out his first genuine grin in ten years. "Together at last."

Beads of tears gathered in Katara's big, blue eyes, as she cupped the avatar's cheek with her free hand. "I wish it hadn't ended up like this."

Aang pulled his face out of her grasp. "Why?" he asked fiercely.

"You had so much life left," Katara explained, squeezing his hand.

Gazing adoringly at Katara, and leaning in for her lips, Aang replied, "There is no life without you."


End file.
